


Making Space

by Polywantsanother



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Depression, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Miscarriage, Postpartum Depression, Starts with Canon Relationships, begins with kataang, begins with maiko, blood mention, no one deserves any of this, suicide ideation, then everything falls apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 08:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19663393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polywantsanother/pseuds/Polywantsanother
Summary: After Katara's marriage dissolves, she realizes that she doesn't have a foundation to stand on. Nothing makes sense, everyone is hurting, and she isn't even certain if she made the right choice. The only person who truly understands, once again, is Zuko.After a thousand small choices, Zuko doesn't even know where he went wrong. But something went terribly, horribly wrong. Having lost so much already, Zuko tries to focus on his daughter and control what he can of his own pain.Katara and Zuko try to work out what blame really means, what they deserve, and what they've earned.(Basically, I got pissed off thinking about how OOC Aang is in AtLA: LoK and how Mai deserved better character growth. Then I tried to think of a reason why it would have ended so poorly. The reason I thought of was super dark and it made me sad so I'm giving it to you guys.)





	Making Space

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I am reiterating. There are mentions of past self-harm, a statement of suicide ideation, miscarriage, blood mention, various forms of depression, and implied child neglect. Thinking about this made me sad, writing it made me sad, do not let it make you sad unless you want it to.

“Tenzin is an Airbender, he needs to know these things.”

“You have never cared about that. You have never made others feel lesser like this!”

“They won’t get it.”

“If you leave. If you leave with just Tenzin, we won’t be here when you get back.”

Sokka and Suki arrived on the earliest airship as soon as they heard. Bumi and Kya, knowing something drastic had happened, couldn’t be separated, so Sokka took them both out to go penguin sledding. Suki stayed with Katara, moving around the hut in silence till Katara inevitably dissolved into tears.

“They’ll hate me.”

“It’s better this way. If they hate you, you’ll be around to love them.”

“I’ve lost my baby.”

“He’ll come back.”

They stayed for a whole season, ignoring all of Katara’s anxious questioning about what they had left behind. At night, since Katara couldn’t sleep, she could often hear her brother’s angry whispers as he summoned all the curses he knew from the ocean depths. His anger lasted longer than her tears, and Katara wrapped herself in her brother’s anger like a thick fur.

Bumi did well under his uncle’s attention, though his comments about his father made Katara wince in pain. Sokka deflected each question and comment easily, refocusing Bumi on some project.

The more Katara watched them, the more she realized she should have reached out to Sokka sooner. Standing between his aunt and uncle, Bumi beamed. These were two great heroes, and both were non-Benders. With the other South Pole children - more non-Benders than Waterbenders - Bumi only stood out by the paleness of his skin. But then, there was Suki: just as bundled up and red-cheeked.

Kya was quieter, often trailing behind the others. When Katara was close by, her daughter would come and sit with her. Their mirrored sadness wove them together, a common blanket that bound mothers and daughters everywhere.

“Daddy isn’t coming.” Kya said.

“It has always been his choice to make.” Katara replied and pulled her daughter to her side. None of this made sense; Aang had always stressed the importance of living in harmony, of being friends with all types of people. As they had grown, Aang had even recognized the patronizing way he would speak of the Air Nomads. When he reminisced, it was never to compare his people to others. He never again acted as if the Air Nomads had been some sort of paragon. Letting go of that pride had allowed him to open to the new occupants of the various Air Temples.

The Air Nomads were gone, but they would never be forgotten. Aang held a pained resignation in his chest and Katara would find him staring off in thought when they stopped at the Temples.

She thought that sadness would fade with time. Aang was more present and tempered, rejoicing in everyone’s growth. The sadness returned when Bumi died, and when other pieces of his past started to slip away. But every time, her husband would return and they would go on a trip where he would kiss her till she felt her body rise into the stars.

Katara never expected that sadness to be running like a river through him, slowly eroding away his insides.

When Bumi was born, Aang cried. At first, Katara thought it was from joy. But she heard him late at night, after she had gotten up to feed the baby and found Aang gone. He wept like an animal was trying to escape his chest and Katara was frightened.

She had shut the door, feeling her heart flutter behind her ribs.

When she got pregnant again, she knew she had a Bender. She was excited when she told Aang and he had seemed like his old self. He stole her breath with kisses and everything seemed lighter.

As the midwife handed Katara the swaddled Kya, Katara squeezed her eyes shut.

Three days after the birth, Katara had woken to the pain of milk in her breasts. Going for the baby and seeing Kya missing, Katara almost fainted from the shock. Rushing about the house, she finally heard the faint lines of a song.

Aang sat in a chair on the balcony, rocking back and forth while singing a song too soft for Katara to make out. Holding her breath, she just watched. Her husband’s face was tight but his eyes were sunken. With one thin finger, he was tracing the curve of Kya’s cheek and drawing small swirls. Then he bent down and kissed her forehead before standing up. Silent, Katara walked over and took her, moving back into the house to feed her. Kya, smelling milk, started to cry, but Katara paused to look back.

Aang was still standing, looking out into the midnight air.

Tenzin’s birth was salvation. Aang had been overjoyed and could barely contain his excitement. For weeks, Katara would snap at him when his mania would wake the other children.

She didn’t notice how Aang’s sole source of happiness became Tenzin. Katara was busy, tending to the older children and continuing the work she was already doing. Aang took over most of the infant care, save for when he needed to be fed. But as soon as Tenzin moved on to more solid food, Katara would often not see her youngest for hours.

Katara thought it would pass.

Then Aang would start leaving, taking Tenzin to important Air Nomad places. That Katara could excuse, though she didn’t see why they all couldn’t go. Bumi had started school and Kya could work on her waterbending at home.

When one trip extended unexpectedly, Katara panicked. As soon as Aang returned, her fear came out as anger and they argued. He had just taken a small detour, to show Tenzin a special place. Cliffs that sang in the evening breeze and glinted like fire crystals at sunrise.

Aang had taken her there and told her that he would love her forever as they laid in the thick grass, listening as the ground below serenaded them.

It was a place they could have gone with all the children.

Katara had left to pick up Bumi and shut the door.

All of those doors being closed had ended up shielding her from what had been happening. The sadness had erased everything she loved about Aang and it was too late for her to fix it. The empty space had been filled with air.

When Sokka and Suki finally did leave, Bumi and Kya cried every night for a week. They became belligerent, fighting with her over everything from their clothes to their food. Already stressed, Katara yelled back and they cried even louder.

At night, Katara’s own sadness continued to heave out of her, like a bilge pump on a sinking ship. She would fall asleep out of exhaustion and when she woke up, Bumi and Kya would be curled around her.

They had woven a wide blanket and it covered them all.

Towards the autumn equinox, as the sun was starting to stay lower on the horizon for longer, Katara received a letter. She felt the rush of hope and the familiar lightness, but it left her as she read it. Toph, with children of her own and a job that allowed for few breaks, had written to check in on her.

Much to Katara’s embarrassment, everyone now knew about what had happened. The chain of events that led to the discovery was both mortifying and oddly satisfying.

Having stayed close, Suki had told Toph about their trip to the South Pole. Immediately after being told, Toph had tracked Aang down and dressed him down, loudly, in public. The argument had been explosive and Toph warned him to not set foot in her city. And she would know if he did.

When Toph returned, Zuko was already in Republic City. He had only recently gotten divorced and was attempting to be more like his uncle to achieve some sort of inner peace. Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared to deal with Toph’s fury.

Zuko tried his best to defuse the situation, but then Sokka came into Republic City. With his anger still not assuaged, he reported the effect Aang’s decision had on Bumi and Kya. They talked more about what should be done; there were legal penalties for abandoning one’s wife and children, but that would involve a traumatic session of Katara testifying. Divorce was also tenuous, as Katara would have to forfeit all of her children if she won her suit.

Then Aang came to Republic City.

It had been daring, of course, as he could have gone directly to Avatar Island. Instead, he came into Republic City and it only took moments before word reached Toph.

Now with Sokka at her side, she renewed her fight. Sokka stepped in, but only to explain how Aang’s leaving had hurt Bumi and Kya.

All of this was written more like a police report, but Katara could tell from where Toph had bashed down on certain keys of the typewriter that certain sentiments had come up during specific points.

Toward the end of the letter, all Toph reported was that Aang had made an offensive comment, Sokka had lunged, but Zuko got there first.

And the Fire Lord knocked the Avatar out cold.

During all of this, Tenzin had been in the care of an Air Acolyte. At this point, the Acolyte stepped in, getting Aang up and making sure they flew to Avatar Island as soon as possible. A day later, Appa flew away again to destinations unknown.

Toph promised to visit soon, but urged Katara to return to the United Republic. There were plenty of cities far enough away from Republic City, but she would be close enough for everyone to visit.

Katara folded the letter and hid it in a small cupboard where she kept her unguents and pill casings.

At the dawn of the first twilight day, the sign that winter was fast approaching, an airship arrived. Regular shipments came into the South Pole to replenish famine rations that they were supposed to have stopped using five years ago. But the reconstruction took longer than expected, and the signs were suggesting that this would be a harder winter.

Katara brought Bumi and Kya to the dock as a reward for having a not-so-terrible day. They went shrieking like wild animals with the other children as the hydraulic ramp slowly lowered with a leviathan groan.

The flash of red the airshipmen wore at first made Katara think of Republic City and she suddenly could breathe. But as the ramp hit the ground and the people began to move, she saw the Fire Nation symbol and relaxed.

Then the guards came and Katara felt lightheaded as she was suddenly pushed back thirty years.

Zuko looked so different, it scared her. Her fingers froze with electrified terror and felt like she was going to cry. As he started to look around, she prayed he wouldn’t see her, but as the thought became wisps in her mind, his eyes met hers.

Then Bumi went barreling up the ramp and directly into Zuko’s stomach.

Once again embarrassed, and still on the verge of tears, Katara rushed forward toward the crowd. Her voice was thin and reedy as she pleaded and pardoned her way past people. And then, she was in front of Zuko.

Bumi was thrown over his one shoulder like a laughing sack of potatoes. Izumi and Kya stood together behind him, whispering and admiring a bracelet Kya had made.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“I know.”

“We’re doing fine.”

“No you’re not.”  
Katara’s breath came in a shudder and her chest felt hot. Zuko set Bumi down and handed him a crowbar, telling him that he hid a prize in one of the crates. Kya cupped her hand around Izumi’s ear and then both girls were suddenly giggling before darting away.

“I’m fine Zuko.”

“His sadness changed him and you didn’t get to say goodbye to the man you loved. You’re not fine.”

“And how do you think that could possibly be it?”

“Because I never got to say goodbye to the Mai I married.”

Before she started to cry, Zuko put his arm around her shoulders and turned her away from the gathered people. No one was paying attention to them, as they were either unloading or going through the supplies. Still, Zuko steered her away and back toward her house.

Taking no prompting, Zuko sat her down on the couch and brought over a blanket while she was weeping. Katara curled into it, laying down on the couch and sobbing while the core of her soul ached. When he returned, Katara felt his warm hand on her back, slowly rubbing the tight muscles that seized with every arrhythmic breath.

“This is all my fault.”

“Not all of it. And you can’t be blamed for not fixing something you didn’t know was broken.”

“Why did he do this?”

“Because a sadness that deep can erase the greatest of joys.”

He gave her tea and he told her about Mai. The promises he made and how now, finally, everything would be as they wanted it. She had enjoyed it at first, the power and privilege that came with being married to the Fire Lord.

Then they started to get pregnant.

She usually lost them in the first trimester. Nothing to show of a pregnancy except the amount of blood. One pregnancy had been promising, and the doctor had ordered strict bedrest. Sages, not the Fire Sages but a new group to rise from their ashes, had said that if the spark caught, the baby would be a strong Firebender.

They had lost him during the seventh month.

Something had broken in Mai then, and Zuko insisted they stop trying. Mai needed the rest and to recover, so they traveled to various healing springs. The doctors had told him in very strong words that he must not even so much as sleep in the same bed as her, so that her body could heal. He did. She pulled away from him, receding more into herself. Maids and other noble ladies assured him that this was normal, and Mai would be fine. So Zuko had left her alone.

He had left her all alone.

During a new moon, when it was the darkest Zuko had ever experienced, he had been woken up as someone entered his room.

Mai had come to him and draped over him like a sheet. Zuko could still remember how he had traced his hands over her body and felt her ribs. And the thick scars on her legs.

She said nothing and the only sound was of their breathing.

When it was done, Mai got up and walked out of the room.

When they returned to the palace, she moved out of their shared room. And nine months later, Izumi was born.

Mai took care of all the motherly duties, but quickly handed Izumi to whatever nurse happened to be nearby. As those duties lessened, Zuko tried to reach out to her. Every time, she turned him away.

When Izumi turned five and they found out for certain she wasn’t a Firebender, Mai threw a glass into the dining room wall.

“I failed. The thing nearly killed me and I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. Please, Mai, if I ever made you think that-”

“It’s not you Zuko, it’s them. It’s this place. It’s me.”

“Mai.”

“Zuko, if I stay here one more night, I will die.”

Zuko let her go.

The divorce had been hard. Mai looked dead as she signed the papers, forfeiting her parental rights to Izumi. As her father’s only heir, there couldn’t be a chance that Mai would take her. As per the usual agreement, Mai was not permitted to remarry for one full year and any pregnancy had to be reported immediately to the palace. Just in case the baby was Zuko’s.

There was no ironic laugh. Mai only scratched out the character of her name and looked at the magistrate.

“She wasn’t even the same woman at that point. I hadn’t even been seeing her.”

“Why couldn’t they just tell us?”

“That sadness was theirs. Either they thought we wouldn’t understand or they didn’t want to drown us.”

“I love him so much.”

“Aang’s gone. Mai’s gone. And it is a terrible thing.”

“What do I do with my own sadness now?”

“Let love in.”

Zuko said he was staying until the solstice, claiming that he had never had the opportunity to spend a good one with her. Having him around, Katara tried to work on letting love in. She saw how sometimes Zuko’s sadness would seep in and he would begin to pace. He moved till he found Izumi and then pestered her, throwing handfuls of snow over her and the others while they ran about shrieking. By the time he needed a break, he was smiling and his eyes were brighter.

Katara took a chance. When her sadness lapped up her spine, she sought out her children. She taught them how to scrape furs and when Bumi started to roll over them, instead of yelling at him, she wrapped him up in one. As he struggled and laughed, Katara and Kya continued to roll him, using their bending to ultimately send him bounding down a hill. They would roll after him and end up on their backs, laughing and crying at the same time as their breath became clouds in the air.

Love began to take up too much room and the sadness had no place to linger. Zuko warned her that it wouldn’t always feel like that, and it would be difficult to push back the sadness for good. While he was prone to melancholy, it was still taking him time to recover.

At the solstice festival, she understood what he meant. Zuko had gone to help light the fireworks and the children were gone somewhere doing spirits knew what. A woman came by with a tray of sweets and Katara took two small plates. As the woman left, Katara turned.

Aang wasn’t there to take the other one.

He had been absent all this time, but her muscle memory still expected him to be there. When she washed dishes, the first she usually held out, waiting for Aang to dry. When she tucked in the children, she had to stop herself from saying their father would be in shortly to say goodnight. When she thought about the meals, she first thought about what dish could be made with and without meat.

But now, during a happy festival, she grabbed a dessert for her husband who had left her. Who had been gone for longer than she cared to admit.

“Katara.”

“He’s not coming back.”

“No.”

“I thought he loved me.”

“Katara, he’s not the same inside. There was too much of the pain.”

“It hurts, so m-much.”

Zuko held her while the fireworks boomed overhead. She pressed her face into his chest and crawled as close to him as she could. He took in slow breaths and his body warmed. Zuko wrapped himself around her and she cried.

“You have to let the pain out.”

“How?”

Her breath was hot and wet, and it curled against her flushed face. Her nose was congested but her eyes dripped.

“I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“Zuko.”

Katara turned her head and Zuko went stiff. His sleeve had been pulled up as he held her awkwardly. There was a mark like a thumbprint burned into his skin. The skin was cracked and dry, with the flesh beneath looking dead. It had been burned repeatedly.

Her sadness and pain left her in a rush. Katara felt weak and wrung out. She sagged in Zuko’s arms and he sighed.

“I have to keep going. Even when I don’t want to, I have to.”

“It can’t be like this forever.”

“But we have to survive the waiting.”

Katara decided that staying in the dark for weeks and weeks wouldn’t help anything. An army of people packed up her house and loaded it onto the airship. Bumi and Kya were excited about the trip, hoping out loud and without subtlety that they would be able to stay at the palace for just a little bit before heading on to the United Republic.

Iroh greeted them when they landed, hugging Katara with such genuine warmth that she suddenly felt like she was drowning. She had resolved to stop crying so much, knowing that it was causing some sort of imbalance in the waters of her soul. Zuko told her it was only her body pushing out some of the pain to let in a little more love. Katara had told him that Iroh had been corny, not sappy so he had missed a lesson somewhere.

Now being outnumbered by Benders, Bumi started to act out. Iroh took every boast and bluster seriously, giving Bumi the attention he needed. When his anxiety waned, Izumi reminded him that she was a non-Bender and was going to become the next Fire Lord. She asserted that just being a Bender didn’t make anyone amazing because just look at her grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather, and then Iroh interrupted her to tell them that there were red bean buns in the kitchen.

Then Kya broke Katara’s heart as she took Iroh’s hand and asked if being a Waterbender was special enough. Iroh smiled at her and replied that he knew of one very special Waterbender who was also one of the women he most admired. Kya glanced back at Katara as she and Iroh went after the others, and Katara smiled.

That night, Katara made Zuko show her all of his scars. Working from his right arm, Katara glanced at his abdomen. Zuko put a hand over it.

“Not that one.”

“It’s just another scar you didn’t deserve.”

“It’s one I earned.”

“By throwing your life away.”

“To protect you.”

Katara found all the small burns and smoothed them away. The water around her hands stayed cool and glowed faintly, concentrating in spots as they found the damaged skin. The threadlike scars from very sharp blades were also erased.

“And here?”

“I earned that one too.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What else would you have me say of it?”

“You have earned kinder things.”

He sat up and pulled on his robe but left it open. Katara could hear the rush of blood and her limbs felt heavy. He faced her and took a loose strand of her hair. He watched his hand as she watched his face. Zuko tucked the strand behind her ear.

“I earned your friendship.”

“That hasn’t always been kind.”

Her fingers felt cold, or else it was that his skin was hot. Katara touched the place where Azula’s lightning had hit him and he smiled.

“I would take this type of kindness over your indifference any day.”

“I’m not indifferent.”

“I don’t mean to presume.”

“You have earned kinder things than my attention.”

Zuko’s hand returned to her face and he cupped her cheek. A small affection, but one so intimate that her body shuddered. This was not the touch of a brother or a comforting friend. It was a touch she had not known for a very long time.

“Then let me have your words, because you have my full attention.”

“Take them.”

And he kissed her.   
As Zuko shifted to hold her, Katara cried out softly. There was nothing desperate or lustful, but her body still felt charged. Zuko only hugged her, kissing her gently, and cradling the back of her head with his fingers in her hair.

As Katara’s head started to spin, Zuko picked her up and moved her to his bed. He regarded her with a pained look.

“This isn’t how I want us to begin.”

“But I am ready for an ending.”

They spent the night together, and Katara got her first restful sleep in months.

It took two years.

Katara bought a house in Luodai, a promising city that wasn’t too far from Republic City. She met with Aang half a dozen times in various attempts to reconcile, or at least come to some sort of agreement.

Then came the proposal of a new law.

Katara had not been permitted to sit as the South Pole representative on the council as she was married to Aang, who also had a seat. Sokka had taken it instead, and had done a remarkably good job. It was because of how seriously he took his position that the proposal took as long as it did.

Called the Mothers’ Right Law, it outlined the new rules for any divorce occurring outside of any marriage where a legitimate heir was required to maintain the stability of a government. Women were now allowed to initiate a divorce on their own and did not have to forfeit their parental rights. Instead, custody must be shared between the parents in equal measure for all children. If the mother is unemployed or becomes unemployed before remarrying, the former husband must pay her an allowance.

Sokka presented it at a council meeting and as Aang rose from the table, Toph stepped forward. The other representatives all stared at the Avatar and ultimately the law was signed.

Aang signed it again, in another version, one month later.

For the spring and summer, Aang had all three children. Katara had them for the fall and winter.

And during the next winter solstice, Katara and Zuko decided they wanted a new beginning.


End file.
